


The Forged Madonna and the Elders

by Ellidfics



Series: Captain Fraudulent:  The Outtakes [17]
Category: 'Allo 'Allo!, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Art Forgery, Artist Steve Rogers, Chex Mix instead of kale for a change, Gen, TV watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:35:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellidfics/pseuds/Ellidfics
Summary: It's TV night at Avengers Tower, and Tony chose the show.  Little did he know that Steve had a very personal connection to a vintage British sitcom.....
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: Captain Fraudulent:  The Outtakes [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/44015
Comments: 46
Kudos: 86





	The Forged Madonna and the Elders

“And I will catch him with my little tank – “

Steve paused in the doorway to the lounge. Tony, Clint, Natasha, and, surprisingly enough, Sam Wilson were occupying the assortment of thickly upholstered sofas and armchairs that Pepper had chosen for what had originally been intended as a conversation pit and ended up as a television room when the Avengers moved in. A slightly faded television show, seemingly British, seemingly set in the 1940’s, flickered on the screen.

“Hey, everyone. What are you watching?”

Tony, who’d been sprawled diagonally across an oversized armchair designed for two, jackknifed upright and lunged for the remote. Natasha, always cool under fire, simply said, “JARVIS, pause screen” while Clint nearly choked on a mouthful of half-chewed popcorn. Sam, who’d been scrolling through something on his phone, merely looked bewildered. Steve frowned. 

“What’s going on? Tasha?” Steve appropriated the remote from Tony, who had gone an odd shade of gray. “Tony? Sam?”

It was Clint who finally broke the uneasy silence. “It was Tony’s idea. He said we needed to see this episode. I don’t even like old sitcoms and – “

“Old sitcoms? You mean like _I Love Lucy_?” Steve had invested in a complete set of his old friends’ show after his SHIELD cultural lessons had included the sketch where Lucy stomped grapes, and had begun working through every old sitcom he could find. “Those are a lot of fun.”

“More like _Fawlty Towers_ , which is funnier than almost anything we Americans ever did,” said Tony, who tried and failed to reclaim the remote before Steve calmly tossed it over his head to Natasha. “JARVIS, run the one where Basil has to find a duck and – “

“No, let’s keep watching this one,” said Steve. He dropped into an extra-large recliner and leaned back until the footrest extended. “JARVIS, resume play.”

“No! JARVIS, you traitor – “

“- and that will be the end of the Star-Spangled Man and his friend Lucky!” A narrow-faced man with floppy hair and an almost correct Wehrmacht uniform gestured dramatically toward a photograph showing a grinning teenager and a blond man in a padded, skin-tight uniform. “I guarantee it!”

“’Star-Spangled Man’? What – “ Steve double-taked, then burst out laughing as the scene cut to a shot of the padded blond unslinging a star-shaped shield painted with a deformed eagle. “Is that supposed to be _me?”_

Sam passed him a bowl of what appeared to be breakfast cereal baked with cheese, paprika, miniature pretzel bits, and a great deal of salt. “Unfortunately, yes. Why do you think I’ve been ignoring it?”

“Hey, _‘Allo ‘Allo_ is a classic Britcom – “ Tony began. Sam snorted and muttered something about “white guy humor,” then handed Steve a bottle of Brooklyn Brewery’s latest seasonal lager. 

“In your dreams, Stark. Five minutes of _In Living Color_ is funnier than this whole episode,” said Sam. “Hell, five minutes of _Urkel_ pestering the Winslows is funnier.”

“Urkel?” Steve wedged his thumbnail under the crimp on the bottle top and flipped it off with only a tiny scratch to the nail. “That sounds like a disease.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but he was pretty annoying,” said Clint, flushing slightly when Natasha glanced in his direction. “Just my opinion.”

His fellow STRIKE member raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “ _’Allo ‘Allo_ might be a classic now, but back when I was a girl? The Party considered it an example of decadent Western culture at its worst.” She delicately sampled a pretzel liberally coated with parmesan, paused, and washed it down with a hit of Baltica. “’Silly’ and ‘juvenile’ is more like it. Every episode is about stealing that picture – “

“I can see why, that lady is really stacked,” Clint put in, then ducked as Natasha chucked a pillow at his head. “What? She is! I mean, they even _say_ she has a rack and – “

“What lady?” Steve froze in the act of biting down on the salty cereal mix as “Michelle of the Resistance” stepped directly in front of “Star-Spangled Man” and “Lucky” long enough to obscure them groping each other. “Wait, Bucky and I never – “

“We know, Cap,” said Tony, cautiously straightening up from the deeply cushioned chair. “It’s supposed to be _funny.”_

“It’s what passed for humor forty years ago,” said Natasha, making a dismissive gesture. “It hasn’t aged well.”

“Hey! Just because Russia didn’t have decent television when you were a kid - “

“This doesn’t qualify as ‘decent,’ Stark – “

“JARVIS? Any chance you’d be willing to switch to something else? You got _Family Matters_ in your library?”

The scene had shifted from “Star-Spangled Man” and “Lucky” all but ripping each other’s costumes off to a dimly lit wine cellar. An easel leaned against a rack of dusty bottles, an equally dusty black velvet drape covering a picture of some sort. A German officer clapped his hands together, cried, “At last! The _Fallen Madonna_ is mine!” and ripped the drape off to reveal –

“Wait. Tasha, hit ‘pause’,” Steve said. He leaned forward, frowning. “Is that supposed to be _The Fallen Madonna with the Big –_ “

“ _Boobies_ , yessirree,” said Tony. He cautiously lifted a copy of the _Times_ to bat away whatever Natasha threw at him next. “That was half the reason I used to watch this show when I was in college. A bunch of middled-aged adults running around saying ‘boobies’ was really daring, see, and – “

“It’s not the right picture,” said Steve. 

The TV went silent, probably thanks to Natasha automatically clicking “mute” on the remote control. Tony froze in the act of brushing crumbs from his mustache. Sam broke into a huge grin and clinked his bottle against Steve’s, which covered the sound of Clint choking on a diet Faygo Red Pop.

“What do you mean, it’s not the right picture?” Tony said at last.

Steve looked at his friends, then at the screen, then back at his friends. “Because it’s not. It was actually _Susannah and the Elders_ , not the _Fallen Madonna_ , which is probably a painting of Mary Magdalene anyway.”

There was another pause, this time broken by Natasha. “Steve? What are you talking about? Von Clomp is fictional. So is the Fallen Madonna.”

The screen was paused on what was supposed to be a medieval painting but was a lot closer to something you’d hang over the bar in a low-class dive. Steve shook his head. “No, he’s real. He’s not a good artist but he did exist – “

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“ _Yes_ , one of my teachers did his graduate work on Von Clomp.” Steve stopped trying to hide his annoyance. “He also wrote about Von Clamp and Von Clump. There were three of them, see, all of them copying Lucas Cranach and – “

“Wait, this is a real thing? Seriously?” Tony let the newspaper fall to the floor. His shock had been replaced by something that came very close to glee. “They didn’t make it up? There really truly is a fallen Magdalene or Madonna or something with big – “

“Breasts,” said Natasha, shooting him a quelling look that all but had Sam falling out of his chair laughing. “They’re called ‘breasts,’ Stark. Try not to act like you’re twelve.”

Tony made a face that did indeed make him look like he was twelve, at least if you ignored his facial hair. “I’m over forty, and if I can’t act like I’m twelve now when can – “

“You want to know what really happened?” Steve raised his voice enough to carry over the squabbling. “Well. It all started one day in December of 1943….”

_“This is – not a typical assignment.” Peggy Carter, back straight, lips pursed, flicked on the light switch and ushered Steve into a conference room that looked as if it hadn’t been used since the Great War. “However, you’re the only person in the SSR who’s remotely qualified.”_

_“Whatever it is, I’ll do my best.” Steve glanced about the room, taking in the dusty chairs, the scarred table top. He pointed at an easel draped with a heavy black cloth. “What’s this?”_

_“Your assignment,” said Peggy. She whisked the cloth away to reveal a painting of a young, pretty woman with an impressive bustline shrinking away from three toothless, leering old men. Her only clothing was a filmy bit of drapery strategically covering one (but not both) large, unnaturally round breasts. “Von Clomp’s Susannah and the Elders. It’s a companion piece to his Fallen Madonna.”_

_Steve frowned. He hated to contradict Peggy, but fact was fact. “No, it's not,” he said at last. “It’s a fake.”_

_Peggy went very still. “What?”_

_Steve joined her in front of the easel. He pointed at the brushwork just over a nipple two shades too red to be rosy, then quickly dropped his hand to his side when he realized just how lewd pointing at a breast probably looked. “Well. That part, it’s not how Von Clomp painted human, uh, flesh. I saw one of his other paintings and, uh - ”_

_A clock ticked somewhere, slow and loud. Peggy put her hands on her hips. “Captain. I realize you were an artist before the war, but wasn’t your background in commercial art rather than Old Masters? I scarcely see how that would equip you to authenticate something from the early sixteenth century.”_

_“One of my teachers worked part-time as a conservator at the Metropolitan Museum in New York.” Steve swallowed. Why was she so angry? “He was working on a Von Clomp in their collection and brought us in to show us the difference between the original and all the retouching someone had done about fifty years ago.”_

_“Yes, the Repentant Magdalene. I saw it when it was at the Goudstikker Gallery before the war,” said a new voice. “It ended up at the Met what, five years ago?”_

_Steve nodded quickly at the newcomer, a dapper, tweedy man with neatly combed hair a shade or two lighter than Steve's and slightly crooked front teeth. “About that long, yeah.”_

_“That’s what I thought,” said the newcomer in what Peggy always called a posh accent. “You studied with John Paglia? I’ve corresponded with him. Very sound scholar, perhaps not the best painter, but he certainly knows his Old Masters.”_

_“That’s right. He taught oils and basic conservation at the Art Students League,” said Steve, relaxing slightly. “He sometimes held class in the Met's conservation lab to show us how to do retouching, repair canvas, that sort of thing. Said most of us wouldn’t be able to make a living just with art but dealers always need restorers.”_

_“Wise advice,” said the tweedy man. He walked easily to the painting, pulled out a small magnifying glass, and carefully examined the same roses-on-ivory skin that Steve had pointed out. “I’m terribly sorry, Peggy, but your friend is quite correct. This isn’t a Von Clomp. Perhaps it’s by one of his imitators, but it’s far more likely to be a modern forgery.”_

_“Modern forgery? Are you certain, Ken?” Peggy's shoulders drooped even though her stern expression hadn’t changed. “Agent Dubois of the Resistance barely managed to smuggle this out of Nouvion a week ago. It can’t be fake.”_

_“At best it’s a Von Clamp. Definitely not Von Clomp.” Ken tucked the magnifying back into his breast pocket and regretfully shook his head. “There’s been a forgery ring specializing in Old Masters operating out of the Netherlands for the last decade or so. A rather good one, I’m afraid. I’m not surprised your agent was fooled.”_

_“That’s what Professor Paglia said,” said Steve. “Guess he’d been called in to work on a Vermeer in a private collection and realized almost immediately there was something wrong with the paint – said it was almost like Bakelite, not old oils. The owner was so angry when he found out he wouldn’t pay for the cleaning.”_

_Ken made a little moue of distaste. “Some of your American collectors care more about what a painting's worth than its quality.”_

_He gestured again at the Von Clamp or whatever it was. “All questions of connoisseurship aside, though, I happen to know the owner of Von Clomp’s Susannah and the Elders. He's a hearty county sort from Porthmadog who got sent down from Jesus in ’24 for brawling, and I’d be shocked if he’s ever been anywhere near Nouvion.”_

_“Bloody hell,” said Peggy, then flushed as Ken raised an elegant eyebrow. “The SOE is not going to be happy when I tell them it’s a fake. We had an entire operation planned out, but if it's a forgery it's all gone bust.”_

_“That’s most unfortunate, but I’m afraid your associate is correct. This painting is definitely not what your agent thought it was,” said Ken. He calmly tucked the magnifier away as he took in the SSR patch on the left sleeve of Steve’s uniform. “Forgive me, but we haven't been introduced. I'm Kenneth Clark of the National Gallery.”_

_“Captain Steve Rogers, Strategic Scientific Reserve,” said Steve, automatically sticking out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”_

_“The same,” said Ken. His hand was smooth but dry, with surprising strength. “Forgive me for asking, but is this the first time we’ve met? You look familiar.”_

_Steve kept his face very still as he thought of those awful theater posters. “I don't think so. I just got to London a few weeks ago from the Italian front.”_

_“Captain Rogers is the SSR's field commander.” Peggy brushed a wayward lock of hair behind one ear. “However, he was a commercial artist before the war, which is why he's here.”_

_She pushed herself out of the chair and joined them at the easel. “We were going to ask him to clean off the old varnish, retouch a few worn spots and slip a bug under the frame. Then our contact in Nouvion was going to peddle it to Goering in lieu of the Fallen Madonna.”_

_Ken snorted. “I'm not surprised Goering would want yet another nude for his collection. His taste runs toward the…unclothed.”_

_Someone walked past their conference room, footsteps swift and sure. Ken, Peggy, and Steve all waited until the random staffer was well past before going on. “Goering’s taste may be questionable, but he’s the head of the Luftwaffe. He’s supposedly been looking for the Fallen Madonna for years so bugging it would be to our advantage.” Peggy thinned her lips. “How obvious is the fakery?”_

_Steve looked at Ken, who made an “after you, my dear Alphonse” gesture. “Well, I noticed it, but I’ve seen an original up close and personal. How much does Goering actually know about art?”_

_“His personal collection – “_

_“Means nothing, unless you’ve forgotten what I just said about how many wealthy people buy wretched pictures solely because they’re expensive,” said Ken with a faint, aristocratic shake of his head. “He has some good pictures but just as many mediocre ones. I’ve never met him, thank goodness, but by all accounts the man is a raging vulgarian with far too much money for his own good.”_

_Peggy folded her arms. “His taste isn’t the point, Ken. It’s whether we can get him to buy this painting. Captain Rogers is the only SSR agent with any training or experience as an artist, so he was the logical choice to work on it.”_

_“I didn’t actually restore anything, I just watched,” Steve interjected. Peggy shot him a pointed look and continued._

_“I was about to brief him on what precisely needed to be done when you arrived.” Peggy pointed at a badly worn section that had started out as the middle Elder’s nose. “This area in particular needs some serious work. One can’t expect Goering to buy a painting that looks decayed.”_

_“Indeed,” said Ken. He flicked open his magnifier again and leaned forward to examine the canvas in more detail. “Hm. This definitely could benefit from a clever artist’s hand. Captain Rogers, if you would?”_

_Steve joined him at the canvas and narrowed his eyes. It was the first time he’d taken a really close look at a painting since the serum, and it was a shock to see how much detail he’d never seen because of bad eyesight and color blindness. “That figure to the left – he looks almost green. Bad gesso?”_

_“Or a ground that’s supposed to look like bad gesso,” said Ken. He frowned. “The damage is almost certainly deliberate, you know, to make the painting look as old as possible. Some of the techniques forgers use are quite imaginative.”_

_Steve nodded. “I see what you mean. Steel wool, maybe? That patch over his eye – “_

_“Coarse sandpaper would be my guess,” said Ken. “Either way, it’s clearly been artificially aged. I’m not surprised that your Agent Dubois didn’t notice, Peggy. Amateurs seldom notice the fine details.”_

_“Agent Dubois is scarcely an ‘amateur.’ She worked at the Jeu de Paume in Paris before the war and – “ Peggy began, only to have Ken shake his head in clear dismissal._

_“I’m sure your agent is a competent spy, but she clearly is not an expert on the Saxon proto-Renaissance.” Ken beckoned to Steve. “Now, if you’re going to make this acceptable to Herr Goering, here are a few things to keep in mind – “_

“So you retouched it?” Natasha said. Sam was snickering quietly into his snack bowl, while Tony had set down his drink and had the “you knew _him?_ ” expression he got whenever Steve mentioned someone he’d met back in the 40’s who turned out to be famous. “I’m surprised you had enough down time.”

“Well. It wasn’t like I did that great a job,” said Steve. “Didn’t need to, though. Peggy’s friend had one of his conservators do the background work. I just altered the Elders’ faces – “

_“Wow. This dame is stacked,” Bucky said, giving the female in question a slow, sweeping look. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”_

_“You’re not dreaming,” said Jonesy. “That dress is nothing to write home about, but give her something that fits, put her in front of a microphone, and there you go. Even the Duke doesn’t have a girl singer that fine.”_

_Jim Morita sighed. “Who cares if she can sing? Melons like that it doesn’t really matter – “_

_It was time to interrupt before things got out of hand. Steve pushed the door open and walked into the one room in the SSR’s bunker that got a couple of hours of morning sunlight. “What are you guys doing?”_

_Jim visibly jerked upright. Bucky went very still, then turned, eyes wide and innocent. “We’re appreciating art, just the way you always told me I should. You got a problem with that?”_

_Steve blew out a breath. He’d pulled on an ancient OD t-shirt that he could throw out if too much paint got on it, the sweatpants he wore when he went for a run before reveille, and tattered sneakers. “That was when we went to the Cloisters, Buck. Not quite the same.”_

_He set his paint box down on a table and walked up to the alleged Von Clamp, or Clump, or Clomp someone had placed next to a poster of Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo that someone else had used for target practice with a throwing knife. “Besides, it’s a fake.”_

_Bucky made a little “hm” sound and practically squashed his nose against Susannah/the Madonna/Mary Magdalene’s exposed upper body. “Those knockers look real to me,” he said at last._

_“Not her breasts, jerk. The painting. That is a fake.” Ken’s staff had done a great job of retouching the backgrounds, the drapery, and pretty much everything except the leering Elders. Steve had plans for those “I’m going to make it faker.”_

_“You’re gonna – “ Bucky frowned as Steve selected a pale gray stick from the box and sighted down it at the first Elder. “You want to start at the beginning? You’re losin’ me completely here.”_

_“Me, too,” said Jim, who tried to look like he cared about art and failed pretty badly. “What’s going on, Cap?”_

_“I’m going to repaint those three clowns to look like even bigger clowns.” Steve couldn’t help a little smirk as he compared the forgery to the poster, then to his men. “And you three are going to help.”_

“So – so – “ Sam had to put his beer down before he inhaled half of it. He’d already laughed so hard he’d scattered snack mix on Tony’s custom-made coffee table. “You made the Elders look like – like – “

“Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo.” Steve couldn’t help grinning at the memory. “The propaganda poster was such a mess I had to use the boys as models. Buck was Tojo because of the way he looked in glasses, Jonesy was Mussolini, and Jimmy was Hitler because he hadn’t been to the barber in a month and his hair kept flopping in his eyes.”

Natasha visibly swallowed whatever sound she’d been about to make. Clint was laughing nearly as hard as Sam, while Tony had disappeared entirely into his chair except for the occasional wheezing gasp. “Did the Resistance actually sell it to Goering?”

“Oh, yeah. Agent Dubois of the Resistance – her name was Michelle and she was a real looker, I think Jonesy took her dancing a couple times – “

There was a strangled howl from the chair, which actually shook slightly.

“ – managed to get it into the collection at the Jeu de Paume in time for Goering to see it on one his visits. He liked it so much he kept it at his headquarters, too, so we heard everything he and his buddies talked about.” Steve leaned over and gave Sam a light smack between the shoulder blades to keep him from choking. “I don’t think he ever noticed what I’d done to the Elders.”

He took a thoughtful pull on his beer. “I wonder whatever happened to the painting? Goering managed to get most of his art out of Berlin before the Russians arrived so it might still be out there. Guess I’ll never know.”

A hand rose out of the chair cushions and waved vaguely in the direction of the ceiling. “JARVIS – buddy – “

“Sir? Are you in distress? I can summon Ma’am if you are in need of assistance.”

Tony heaved himself upright, face red, eyes bright. “Start searching the gallery websites. I want it for my private collection, there’s a space where I used to keep that Lempicka that’ll – “

Natasha finally got up, strode over to his chair, and whacked him on the arm with the discarded _Times_. “Philistine. Pepper’s spent years buying those paintings and you are not going to replace a Tamara de Lempicka still life with a joke.”

“It’s a genuine Captain America!” cried Tony, dodging another smack. “It’ll be perfect, just trust me and – “

“Hey, I need something for my room.” Clint raised his Red Pop on high. “Right now it’s all blank walls and a couple of SCA scrolls, so – “

“Done. JARVIS, you found it yet?”

“Herr Goering owned a surprising number of nudes, Sir. If you will give me a few – “

Steve sighed and passed the snack mix back to Sam. “Before you ask, yeah, this is normal. Not arguing over a painting, but the rest of it.”

“No wonder Stark’s girlfriend took a spa day,” said Sam. He stood up, bowl in one hand, beer in the other. “Want to go catch the game? That man cave thing Stark set up behind the kitchen’s free.”

“Sure,” said Steve. “Knicks or Rangers?”

“Flip you for it,” said Sam, and led the way out of the chaos.

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a couple of comments on "IMDB Entry," where several people wanted to know more about "Star Spangled Man's" appearance on the old Britcom _'Allo, 'Allo!_ Alert readers may notice that this is not quite the same as the plot summary I gave in the comments, but then again that was four years ago :)
> 
> As for the historical references:
> 
> \- Herman Goering, head of the Luftwaffe, fancied himself a great art collector and Renaissance man. He was actually a gaudy, bloated, self-important buffoon with a brutal streak wider than the Rhine and a taste for mediocre German nudes. He was fooled by Han van Meegeren, the legendary Dutch art forger, and bought one of his fake Vermeers that looks as much like a real Vermeer as it does like a manhole cover.
> 
> \- There was indeed an active forgery ring in the Netherlands pumping out fake Vermeers, Halses, de Hooches, and other Dutch Old Masters before and during the war. Many of them were either painted by or associated with Han van Meegeren, who avoided a treason charge solely by admitting that he'd forged several "Vermeer" religious paintings using paints that were based on early plastics like Bakelite, albeit with authentic pigments. 
> 
> \- Sir Kenneth Clark (later Lord Clark of Saltwood) was one of the most important British art historians of the 20th century. He ran the National Gallery during World War II (including booking a series of lunchtime concerts by Dame Myra Hess, the pianist, to raise morale), served as the curator of King George V's painting collection, and wrote what is still one of the best works on Leonardo Da Vinci's notebooks and sketches. He later went on to present several fine British art documentaries, including the legendary "Civilisation: A Personal View" series in the late 1960's. 
> 
> \- Faygo Red Pop is a strongly flavored strawberry soda popular in the Midwest.
> 
> \- The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies, von Clomp's masterwork, was *the* major plot driver during the run of 'Allo, 'Allo! The Wikipedia entry is [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fallen_Madonna) if you're curious.


End file.
